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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900904">Decorate Your Scars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84'>Lothiriel84</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Bunker (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Asexual Character, Blood and Injury, Emotionally Repressed, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, Isolation, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:35:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,202</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900904</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>But we’ll paint round your eyes<br/>On your neck and your thighs<br/>Till the outside begins to feel alright<br/>A blanket to wrap round you warm and tight</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>David Knight/David Price (The Bunker), Tom Dalling/David Price (The Bunker)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had all started as a bit of a lark – Dave had somehow let it slip he’d never kissed a man, and an unwitting <em>oh, I have</em> had been out of his mouth before he could think better of it. And for all that he didn’t usually go in for this sort of thing, the truth was that he’d been going without much in the way of human contact for so long that he all but ached for anything resembling closeness to another human being.</p><p>In spite of the initial awkwardness, Dave had soon taken to it like a duck to water; and here they were now, in the privacy of Tom’s room – formerly the broom cupboard – snogging like two high schoolers behind the bike shed. It felt – surprisingly good, all things considered, even more so as Dave had readily accepted Tom’s boundaries, which meant he didn’t have to worry about being pushed into anything he wasn’t comfortable with.</p><p>Kissing was good, Tom thought; touching was also good, so long as they stayed mostly clothed, though he had no substantial objection to the occasional hand slipping under the hem of his shirt to lightly trace the contours of his stomach. Cuddling was probably his favourite, and he very much enjoyed playing the big spoon as he ran his fingers through Dave’s ridiculously soft curls.</p><p>He was having such a lovely time he didn’t immediately take notice of the telltale tension gradually seeping through his friend’s pleasantly relaxed state, not until Dave cleared his throat quite pointedly, and gently reached back to still the hand that had been tracing idle patterns across his hip.</p><p>“Time for me to turn in, I think,” Dave said lightly, his forced attempt at playing it cool belied by the huskiness of his voice. And all of a sudden, it was as if a switch had been flipped in Tom’s brain, his arm tightening around his friend’s waist almost of its own accord.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” he blurted out, tripping on his own tongue. “I – wouldn’t mind, just this once. If you want to, that is.”</p><p>Dave’s back stiffened even further, where it was still pressed against his chest. “I hardly think that’d be a good idea, Tom,” he pointed out, carefully, sounding more than a little torn in spite of himself.</p><p>“Look, I’m not – I still don’t want you to, er, touch me. But I could, you know, for you? Or, just hold you while you – um.”</p><p>The sharp intake of breath resounded unnaturally loud in the silence that followed. “If you’re really sure,” Dave exhaled at length, his fingers twitching as if in anticipation.</p><p>“I am,” he declared with conviction, and purposely slipped his hand between his friend’s legs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They were making progress, he thought. The decrepit radio transmitter wasn’t quite working just yet, but it was still a vast improvement from its original state of disrepair, and he was fairly confident a second-hand replacement amplifier might do the trick after all. Half of his brain was distantly aware of Dave waffling on about something or other in the background, but if there was one thing to be said about being trapped in close quarters with the same few people for several decades on end, it was that he’d long got the hang of tuning their inane chatter out at his convenience. He put the front panel back in place, bolted it, and reached for the mug of freshly made coffee waiting for him on the counter.</p>
<p>“That’s the stuff,” he nodded to himself, breathing in the rich aroma of spiked coffee. “What did you put in this time?”</p>
<p>“Bit of anise, rum, and brandy,” Dave shrugged, cradling his own steaming mug between his palms. “Tastes quite good, if I say so myself.”</p>
<p>“Not too bad,” he agreed easily, rolling another mouthful around his tongue. They sipped the rest of their coffee in what he could only assume was distantly reminiscent of a companionable silence, at least until Dave put down his mug, looked him in dead the eye, and uttered the unthinkable.</p>
<p>“I think we should have sex,” he said, almost matter-of-factly. “Nothing else has to change, it’s just something we could – do. If you’re interested. It’s an option, is all I’m saying.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” he enunciated, slowly, the better to give himself time to think. “We could do that, I guess. What I’d really like to know is, why?”</p>
<p>“Because, <em>sex</em>, duh,” Dave huffed, as if that explained everything. “I don’t know about you, but there’s only so long a man can spend with the sole company of his own hand, and I for one think we’re way past that.”</p>
<p>“I meant, why now, after all this time?” he clarified, the beginnings of his nearly permanent frustration starting to creep in at the edges. “And why me, for that matter? I thought you and Tom had some sort of – arrangement, going on.”</p>
<p>Dave bit his lip, as if trying to make up his mind one way or the other. “Tom doesn’t really – look, it doesn’t matter. I asked you a fairly straightforward question. Either you’re interested, or you’re not. It’s as simple as that.”</p>
<p>He took a deep breath, willed the last faded scraps of memories of his late wife out of his mind. “All right,” he decided, before he could start second guessing his own stance on the issue at hand. “Let’s do it.”</p>
<p>“What, like, right now?” Dave blinked, his bravado seemingly faltering for the first time ever since he’d brought up the subject.</p>
<p>“I can’t see why not,” he replied, conversationally. “Now’s as good a time as any, and it’s not as if we need to perform any sort of – mating ritual, to lead up to it. Besides, Tom’s locked himself up in his room, sleeping off yet another of his headaches.”</p>
<p>A light tapping of fingers against the counter, as their owner stalled for time. In the end, Dave raised up his chin, straightened his back, and plucked David’s mug out of his hands. “Your room, or mine?”</p>
<p>“We are not doing this in my room,” David said firmly, and led the way down the corridor.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Pull yourself together, David</em>, he rebuked himself, willing his hands to stop shaking. <em>We can’t all three panic, can we?</em></p><p>Between him and Tom, they’d eventually managed to drag Dave to the relative safety of their underground lair; it didn’t help that Dave couldn’t seem to stop clawing at each of them in turn, what with the excruciating pain caused by the horrific gash across his abdomen, and the mounting terror at being suddenly confronted with his own mortality.</p><p>“Don’t let me die here alone,” Dave begged as he tried to extricate himself from his frantic grasp. “Please.”</p><p>“I’ll go and fetch the emergency kit,” Tom offered immediately, even though he was shaking quite badly himself, and he looked like he might pass out at any moment. “It’ll be all right, I promise.”</p><p>Crouched on the floor bearing most of Dave’s weight, slumped as he was against his chest, David was left to fight back the beginnings of an impending panic attack. For all that he hardly remembered anything prior to the Big Headache, the sensory memory of cradling his wife’s limp body in his arms was threatening to swallow him whole, and he almost welcomed the death grip of Dave’s fingers anchoring him back to reality.</p><p>“I don’t want to die,” Dave wheezed, his voice breaking halfway through. “I can’t – David, please.”</p><p>“No one’s going to die tonight, do you hear me?” David forced himself to speak through gritted teeth. “Now stop making such a fuss, and let me have a look.”</p><p>With a broken sob, Dave let himself be manoeuvred to a reclining position, with David’s folded hoodie as a makeshift support for his head. His shirt was soaked in blood by now, the gash itself deep enough to give David some pause.</p><p>“Here we are,” Tom announced as he scrambled back to his knees at Dave’s side, the tremor in his voice belying his pathetic attempt at fake cheer. “We’ll have you stitched back in no time at all.”</p><p>David snatched the emergency kit from his hands, rummaged through it for anything that could work as an anaesthetic. “Well, this will have to do,” he muttered to himself, grabbing the vial and a disposable syringe. “Hold still.”</p><p>“What’s that?” Dave started panicking all over again. “What are you going to do?”</p><p>“Oh, for Coke’s sake – it’s just something to help with the pain. Now lie back, and let me do my job.”</p><p>“You’re going to be fine, man,” Tom promised, prising Dave’s fingers away from where they were still clutching at David’s arm. “I swear it.”</p><p>Trust Tom to make the sort of promise he couldn’t keep; but if it did anything to calm Dave just a little, then he supposed it couldn’t hurt after all. Steeling his resolution, he injected the sedative, laid out the suture kit as he waited for the drug to start taking effect.</p><p><em>Almighty Coke, just let him be okay</em>, he spared a silent thought – almost, but not quite, a prayer – and set out to work.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He looked at himself in the tarnished reflective panel he kept under his bed as a makeshift mirror, grimaced at the sight of the jagged scar marring the otherwise unblemished expanse of his torso. For all that he was grateful he’d made it out alive and whole, he couldn’t help resenting the permanent reminder etched on his skin.</p>
<p>“It’s not that bad,” Tom reassured him, unscrewing the lid off the jar of sickly smelling ointment. “I’m sure it’ll fade away in a couple of decades at most.”</p>
<p>“It’s ugly,” he shrugged despondently, turning around to give Tom better access as he set out to apply the ointment. “I hate it.”</p>
<p>“Hey, you’re still the pretty one, you know that, right?” Tom pointed out, half in jest, half seriously.</p>
<p>“As if,” Dave muttered to himself, and moved to hastily button his shirt.</p>
<p>Tom sighed, placing the jar on the nearest available surface, then reached to cup Dave’s cheek. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” he chided him, and leant forward to lightly press his lips to the corner of Dave’s mouth. “Cheer up man, you still got it.”</p>
<p>Dave huffed out a bout of startled laughter. “Flatterer,” he grinned at last, tilting his head to meet Tom’s lips in a proper kiss. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Anytime, old chum.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m tired, Dave,” David turned him down almost immediately, stepped aside to put some distance between them. “Some other time, perhaps.”</p><p>Swallowing around the sharp stab of hurt, he shot him a bitter smile. “Never again, more like.”</p><p>David pinched the bridge of his nose, a clear sign he was summoning the last few strands of his already threadbare patience. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I suggest you take it to your own room.”</p><p>He scoffed, crossing his arms almost defensively in front of himself. “Why don’t you just say it to my face, and have done with it?”</p><p>“I’m sorry?”</p><p>“You haven’t touched me once since the incident with the scavengers and the damaged turbine. Tell me, David – does it repulse you so much, hmm?”</p><p>To his credit, David looked the closest to a deer caught in the headlights than he could ever recall. “What in Coke’s name are you talking about?”</p><p>“I assume this is about my scar,” Dave observed, confrontationally. “You didn’t seem to have this many qualms about us sleeping together, before.”</p><p>“For Coke’s sake, Dave,” David blurted out all of a sudden. “You almost <em>died</em> back there.”</p><p>“I am well aware of that, thank you.”</p><p>“Of course you wouldn’t get it.” And for the first time, some unnamed emotion found its way through David’s carefully maintained composure. “Never mind. I can safely promise I don’t have a problem with your scar. Happy now?”</p><p>“I can tell when you’re lying, you know. It just comes with sharing the same living space for close on a century now.”</p><p>“I’m not – just drop it, all right?”</p><p>He frowned, as a rather unprecedented idea started to dawn on him. “David, are you – could you possibly be – upset, of all things?”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Dave,” David promptly laughed it off, turning his back on him as he began punching the buttons of the coffee machine.</p><p>“Oh, you absolute git,” Dave shook his head, a surge of something suspiciously close to affection warming him up from the inside. “It’s okay to admit it, you know.”</p><p>“I swear I haven’t the faintest what you’re talking about,” David haughtily informed him, glaring at the coffee machine for good measure.</p><p>“As Tom is so fond of reminding me, the scar means that I’m still alive,” he pointed out, not unreasonably, taking hold of David’s hand and hovering it close to his stomach.</p><p>“You’re both insufferable, just so you know,” David shot back, swallowed audibly as Dave guided his palm to trace the contours of his scar.</p><p>“Duly noted. Are you coming to my room, or not?”</p><p>“Fine,” David sighed in defeat, his thumb pressing gently next to the point where the scar met his hip.</p>
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